


Once More, With Feeling

by NeedsaThneed



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Connor Lives, Connor dances, Drug Use, Evan sings, Glee References, Humour, Jared can fucking perform with the best of them, Jealous Connor, M/M, Mental Health Issues, My boys will be happy, Slow Burn, Spontaneous Singing/Dancing, musical AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-13 05:26:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11177991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeedsaThneed/pseuds/NeedsaThneed
Summary: Alternate Universe were Connor and Evan get roped into doing the school musical. Jared invites himself along for the ride and these boys might actually get their shit together. Eventually.





	1. Finding the Talent

Evan was as ready as he’d ever be for the first day of senior year. _No big deal. It’s just the closest thing to a fresh start until I graduate. Don’t think about how one day will affect the rest of the year_. A block away from the school, Evan took a deep breath. He exhaled, hooking his thumbs in his bags shoulder straps. He was ready.

Except that one of his shoulder straps felt loose. He felt it slipping slightly as he approached the school's gates. _Don’t fix it now_ , he thought to himself. If he started fiddling with it, he could get distracted and walk into someone. Or worse, break the strap and have his bag and books fall everywhere. _So it’s fine, it’s going to be fine. Just leave it_.

But if he did nothing, it would put all of his backpack's weight onto his left shoulder, and that is just incredibly bad for your posture. Not that Evan had great posture. He constantly had his shoulders up like a turtle trying to shrink into shell except he didn’t have a shell, he only had a heavy backpack that would inevitably give him worse posture if he didn't fix it right now.

Evan managed to refrain from fidgeting with his backpack until he reached his locker, where he was verbally barraged with the human whirlwind that was Alana Beck. He listened attentively as she motored through a one-sided discussion about her summer at a breakneck pace. It must be exhausting to be that motivated all the time. Well, at least for him it would be. Alana seemed to manage fine. More than fine. Alana Beck would never have trouble talking to people, getting into colleges, or finding a purpose in life. The only thing Evan was good at was obsessing over trees.

“Do you want to, maybe, that’s um, I’m sorry I don’t know what you um, If you have to –“ Evan waved his hand in the direction of the classrooms, then aborted the movement, giving up on his sentence in the process.

“Did you want to just sign my cast?” he stumbled out, offering her his arm and marker.

“Oh my god, what happened to your arm…?” Alana asked sympathetically.

“Oh well, I broke it. See I was climbing a tree –“ Evan began, ready to speed through his explanation. He had rehearsed in his head last night in case someone asked. Not that he actually thought someone would ask, but it’s best to be prepared.

It turns out his rehearsal wasn’t necessary though, as Alana interrupted him with a grim anecdote about her grandma and then wished him a happy first day before marching down the hallway. Well, it was nice of her to ask about his summer, at least. Even if she hadn’t seemed to care too much about his answer.

“Is it weird to be the first person in history to break their arm from jerking off too much, or do you consider that an honor?” Jared Kleinman appeared in front of Evan, hand in pocket, purposeful swagger in full force.

“No - stop, no I didn’t. I wasn’t – I wasn’t doing that.” Evan rushed out, stepping closer to his friend so he would lower his voice. Clearly enjoying Evan's discomfort, Jared continued.

“Paint me a picture –"

 

* * *

 

 

Connor was contemplating whether it was worth the consequences of skipping before the first bell rang. The corridor was close to empty with a sprinkle of kids walking to their lockers, catching up with their friends on the way. Deciding that the hissy fit his mom would pitch over missing the “first day of senior year” was deterrent enough to at least try to make it through the day, Connor began to make his way to his first class at a glacial pace.

At the end of the hall, he noticed Alana Beck and Evan Hansen in a fast-paced discussion. Huh, two kids in his year that he didn’t despise. Alana was tolerable, if overbearing, and Evan was…Well, he wasn’t really anything. He sort of had the wallflower act down to a capital T. Connor was almost jealous. He had to suffer years of standing out like a sore thumb while this guy could easily just fade into the background.

But…he seemed like a tolerable person. Connor couldn’t remember a time when Evan or Alana had made fun of him. Maybe he should approach them? It could be so easy, a quick “how was your summer?” and then the conversation would take care of itself. He probably wouldn’t even have to say anything else, with Alana there. Then it wouldn’t be weird if he tried to talk to them later. If he could only talk to someone like a normal person, people would see he wasn’t just some isolated freak.

Connor edged toward the duo. _Deep breath_ , he thought, _think positive!_

Ugh, even his inner voice sounded sarcastic.

_Fuck it._

Connor took a step forward.

And then promptly took a step back.

Fucking Jared Kleinman. The insanely annoying Jared Kleinman. Connor suddenly remembered why he’d never approached Evan before. His sack of shit best friend.

Connor leaned against the wall, wishing he could sink into it. Jared's condescending laugh rang out, grating against Connor’s ears. He held onto his satchel like a lifeline or an as an excuse to do something with his hands that wasn’t strangling Kleinman.

Unfortunately that’s when Jared noticed him.

“Heyyy Connor," Jared’s voice dragged out the greeting as he walked over to him. “Loving the new hair length. It’s very school-shooter-chic.”

An awkward pause ensued. Connor stared at Jared blankly, and Jared’s trademark smug face disappeared.

“I was just…kidding. It was a joke?”

Jared was attempted to cover his tracks. If Connor snapped now, he’d be overreacting. He sucked down the anger and gave Jared an emotionless stare.

“Yeah no it was funny, I’m laughing. Can’t you tell?”

Jared continued to just stand there. Waiting.

“Am I not laughing hard enough for you?” Connor raised his voice, advancing on him.

“You’re such a freak.”

Jared walked off, dismissing Connor with a wave of his hand.

A sharp exhale. A laugh. Evan Hansen, the loser wallflower was laughing at him. Of course he’d think his best friend was funny for pointing out what a freak Connor was.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?”

“What…” Evan shifted uncomfortably.

“Stop. Fucking. Laughing at me.”

“No, I’m not-“

Connor began walking towards Evan.

“You think I’m a freak?”

“No I- I don –“

“I’m not the freak.”

“I wasn’t laughing at you-”

“You’re the fucking freak!” Connor spat out, shoving Hansen to the ground and racing past him.

How could he have thought this day was going to be different from any other? He wasn’t going to have some magical turnaround where people suddenly liked and understood him. He would just continue to be Connor the freak, the potential school shooter. Not even Evan Hansen could stand him. And why would he? The kid has a broken arm, and Connor just shoved him to the ground over a laugh. Oh god, what if he had seriously hurt him? Hansen probably wasn’t even laughing at him.

Man, fuck the first day of school.

 

* * *

 

 

Ah, the first day back at school. Ms. Deely stopped in the middle of the hustle and bustle to breathe it all in. The feel of optimism in the air, young curious minds ready to open their hearts to new ideas and projects. Namely signing up for the school musical.

As the school's drama teacher, Ms. Deely was particularly susceptible to energies around her. The positive vibes she was getting clearly meant today - nay the year - was going to be a good one. This season's school musical was going to blow everyone away; she was going to get a raise and finally be able to move into a house that could fit her cats and a husband.

“Ah Ms. Deely," Principle Clements’s voice pierced through her bubble. “Just who I was looking for - if you have a moment.”

He motioned for her to follow him into his office. Already inside was Coach Brett Motley – a stocky man, 10 years past his prime, who committed fully to wearing his gym teacher whistle at all times. The school football team, his pride and joy, proudly declared themselves the “Motley Crew” loudly and un-ironically.

“Nicole.”

“Brett.”

After everyone was seated, Clements began.

“Now I know the first day back is hectic for everyone, so I’ll make this brief,” he cleared his throat.

“I’m not going to sugar coat this. Due to budget cuts, we’re having to look for places to eliminate unnecessary spending."

The protest erupted immediately.

“You can’t cut us back, my boys have worked too hard-“

“Outrageous! The performing arts is part the foundation -“

“ - Our last season was just a bit of a stumble –“

“-parents will riot, I tell you. They pay good money to see their kids nursed into musical fruition-“

“Enough!” Clements stood up, one hand rubbing a graying temple.

“Now obviously I don’t want to cut either of your programs. Extracurriculars make us an attractive option for incoming students, and I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot,” He paused, returning to his seat. “But we have to change something, pool our resources and place a winning bet, so to speak –“

Motley started. Clements held up a hand.

“No Brett, unfortunately after last season's performance, I don’t think your boys are our best bet. Don’t worry, I’m not going to cut the football team but you are on a shoestring budget. No new gear, keep expenses to a minimum. Just focus on putting on a good game and getting people to show up.”

“You can’t seriously believe the drama club is going to rustle up any serious cash?” Motley scoffed.

“Excuse me, last year Jazz band had more keisters in seats than half of your so-called games,” Ms. Deely shot back.

“Precisely. I need you to put on something big, Nicole. Something that will get the parents involved, the kids excited, and the community interested. Now you're going to have to work on a budget as well, - I can’t be taking any big losses - but I can spare you resources.”

Principle Clements nodded towards Brett.

“Now I want your cheerleaders to help out, so I'm going to re-allocate your assistant Clark and his girls to Nicole for now."

Perfect. Clark Bennett was a teacher’s assistant who ran the cheer squad. He had experience in the great theatrical arts with excellent choreography skills. Those skills, however, are usually wasted on the cheers squad's booty-shaking and basket tossing.

“Think of it as a friendly competition.” The principle leaned back in his chair, with a smug look on his face, clearly pleased with the idea. “ Whoever has the most successful endeavor will get next years funding.”

Deely and Motley’s eyes met. Friendly was not the word they would have used.

 

* * *

 

 

Evan was hyperventilating in one of the school's disgusting bathrooms. Of course he was. Hunched over, in a cubicle to minimize the risk of seeing him, he clutched onto the porcelain rim which was probably teeming with all kind of germs that Evan didn't want to think about. Actually, no. He’d rather think about toilet germs than the fact that this was going be another year of feeling like a failure. Another year of _being_ a failure.

He hadn’t gotten a single person to sign his cast. He shouldn’t be surprised. Why would anyone want their name associated with Evan Hansen’s? All he’d achieved today was confirming that Jared, someone he’s known for years, wanted nothing to do with him. Even Alana, who made everyone her business, couldn’t be bothered to sign his cast. No, Evan couldn’t blame it on them. He brought this one on himself. He was the one who stammered every word, who began sweating at the thought of everyday tasks, who couldn’t even talk to a damn delivery man so he could have dinner. No wonder Connor called him a freak.

Oh god. Connor.

Evan squeezed eyes shut against tears as sharp intakes of breath shuddered through his body.

_Breath out, damn it._

What was he going to do? Connor thought Evan had laughed at him. Surely that was enough for him to paint a target on his back. Could he avoid Connor for the rest of the school year? Should he try to apologize? There was no way Evan would come out unscathed after attempting to stammer out that, no, he wasn’t laughing at him, really, he was just nervous to be left in an abandoned corridor alone with Connor after his “friend” had just implied he was a school shooter because his hair had gotten longer, which he didn’t agree with, actually he quite liked Connor's hairstyle, not that that’s relevant but he swears he wasn’t laughing at him, please believe me?

Realizing he was never going to be able to calm down thinking about where he went wrong - he would still be here long after the lunch bell rings a million days from now - Evan shook out a laugh. Resting his forehead on his arm, he began to hum softly.

It didn’t always work, but occasionally Evan managed to calm himself down by singing. Focusing on the remembering lyrics helped keep his mind from idling into dangerous territory. Letting the rhythm of the song slow his breath, he whispered out -

“I a-am hanging in a ba-bathroom at the biggest party of the fall.”

He grabbed at the toilet roll above his head, ripping off a wad and wiping harshly at his face. Clenching it in front of him, Evan watched as his tears dripped onto the pale blue flower pattern of the paper.

“I could stay right here –“ Evan blew his nose loudly “or dis-disappear… and nobody e-even notice at all.”

 _Perhaps this song was a little close to home,_ he thought, as he felt more tears well up. Nevertheless, his breath was slowing, and the sobs had been dialed back to barely pathetic levels. Switching to humming to even out his breathing, he set about making himself presentable.

Flushing the sodden mess down the toilet, Evan folded down the seat and sat for a moment.

“Everything felt fine…when I was half of paiiir.”

Yeah, like he’d ever felt what it was like to be half of anything. He could only imagine. The comradery, the jokes only the two of you had; you and your buddy against the world. Evan often wondered how the protagonist of high school movies who wanted to be popular always seemed to ditch their only friend in the process. Hell, Evan would give anything to have one good friend. Someone he could actually talk to.

Having cleaned out his sinuses, Evan leaned back and belted out the next line.

“And through no fault of mine…there’s no other half theeere”

“Evan…?”

_Oh shit._

Evan sprung up, his pants catching on the toilet seat, causing it to clang in the silence.

“Evan, what are you doing in there?”

That’s definitely Alana’s voice. Was he in the wrong bathroom?

“I’m, uh, using the facilities…?”

Evan opened up the door slightly, peering through the crack. Yep, definitely Alana, standing earnestly in front of his cubicle. Evan pushed the door open the rest of the way and attempted to lean against the cubicle in a way that looked natural.

“Heyyy - um, Alana.” Evan coughed, clearing his throat, before crossing his arms awkwardly, right arm bent at the elbow to rest gingerly against his face “Uh, What, ah - what are you doing here?”

“I was walking to the cafeteria from my drama club meeting when I overheard James O’Keefe saying he heard crying in the stalls. Are you alright?”

“No. Nope. No crying. At least not that I heard.” Evan’s arm slipped down from the wall causing him to lose balance. “Not that I’m calling James a liar, I mean, someone else could have been crying? But uh, no, not me.”

“Oh well, that’s a relief. A close acquaintance of mine, Zoe Murphy, said she saw her brother push you this morning. She had been trying to find you to make sure you were all right, but you weren’t in the cafeteria. So when James said someone was crying in the boys' bathroom on the second floor, I thought it must have been you.”

“Z-zoe wanted to talk to me-”

“- I know what you’re thinking – _these are the male toilets, Alana._ You’re not allowed in here. But I couldn’t just leave it. What if something was wrong? Someone could have been seriously hurt. Plus as hall monitor, I have a responsibility to the student body. “

“O-oh, well, that’s…nice–“

“But then I heard this beautiful voice. Was that you?”

She didn’t wait for him to answer.

“Of course it was you, there’s no one else here.”

Evan's breathing began to hitch again. He knew that if he attempted to speak it would be nothing but stutters. Alana knew that Evan sings to himself while sobbing in the bathroom during lunch. There was no way she wouldn’t tell someone. Everyone would find out.

“You have to audition for the school musical,” Alana stated, as though it was fact rather than the worst idea Evan had heard since Jared had suggested they take up skateboarding in middle school.

Evan slid past Alana towards the sinks. Splashing water on his face, he wiped away any remaining evidence of his earlier breakdown. Alana followed him to continue her pitch.

“Ms. Deely just told us to be on the lookout for new talent. There’s no way you wouldn't get a reasonable role - maybe even a leading character! The drama club really needs more males. Actually, since most of the club graduated last year, we just really need anyone. Not that I mind taking on several roles – President, stage manager, performer – but fresh blood is a must.”

Evan was barely listening. He just had to just calm down and leave. He inhaled and let out a slow, shuddering breath. His eyes locked with Alana's through the mirror.

She looked at him with her eyebrows raised expectantly.  
  
“I c-can’t Alana. I would never be able, to just, stand in front of people and have them judge me. I don’t think I could ever do that.”

“I know it can be scary. I was a wreck before my first audition. Of course I was 10 years old at the time, but I think it still applies." Alana spun Evan around to face her. “It’s really not that bad. The auditions are closed, so you only have to perform in front Ms. Deely!”

“But I’m not – I’m not even a singer”

Alana snorted.

“Clearly you’ve never heard yourself sing.”

“I just -I can't. I’m sorry.”

Evan stared at the ground as he pushed through the door into the hallway. Lunch must have been close to over, and he hadn’t had time to eat anything. Not that he was hungry now. He’d just have to eat when he got home. Only then he remembered, to do that he’d have to order in. That’s fine, he could last until tomorrow.

The bathroom door swished open a second time, and Alana cleared her throat.

“Evan… “

Evan glanced up at her.

“…You really did sound amazing.”

“I…I did?”

Alana nodded, a small, warm smile on her face.

“Th- thank you.”

Alana seemed to perk up instantly, grinning as she pulled flyers out of her backpack.

“Good, so I’ll see you at the auditions this Thursday?”

Alana shoved a flyer into Evans' hands and pranced off yelling, “Thanks Evan! I knew I could count on you!”, over her shoulder while navigating through the lunch crowd pouring into the corridors.

Evan stood there staring dumbly after her retreating figure, holding the school musical leaflet.

_What the hell just happened?_

 

* * *

 

 

Connor sat in the drama teacher's office which, quite frankly, was an office even _he_ was surprised to be sitting in. He honestly couldn’t think of a single reason he was there. He didn’t even take drama class.

Connor had been innocently ripping up school posters up on his way to his next class when Ms. Deely grabbed him and steered him into her office. Where she sat now. Wearing that disappointed look often seen on adults' faces around Connor.

Ms. Deely slid a small yellow packet with “Chronic Lady” written on it into the middle of the desk.

“Why Ms. Deely, I didn’t know you pushed drugs.” Connor said, eyes open in his best imitation of a middle schooler who had never seen “a pot” before.

“I found this in your locker Connor.”

“And here I thought those combinations were uncrackable.”

“This is a big deal, Mr. Murphy.”

Connor smirked, arms folded as he sat as low in his chair as possible.

“Look, it's not even mine. Have you seen how fancy this shit is?” He picked up the packet, twirling it in between his fingers. “This stuff is name brand; it’s got a logo and everything. I couldn’t afford this opulence. A plastic baggie 'sold behind the Denny’s by a man who answers only to the name “Boneless Joe”' is more my speed.”

He threw it back down on the desk, before adding, “Hypothetically speaking of course”.

“Mr. Murphy, I don’t think you realize the gravitas of your situation. You could be expelled for this.”

“I told you, it’s not mine.” Connor insisted, smirk slipping off his face. He could feel his anger begin to bubble up beneath the surface. It wasn’t his. There was no way he was dumb enough to keep drugs in his locker at school. One of his classmates probably slipped it into his locker to try and frame him.

“Well, the fact remains that it was found in your locker. Possession is illegal, and this school takes these sorts of things very seriously.”

Ms. Deely sighed dramatically.

“I see a lot of myself in you, Connor.”

“…How?”

Connors incredulous tone was lost on Ms. Deely.

“We’ve all made foolish decisions and I would hate for your life to be ruined over this.”

She leaned forward in her chair, elbows on the desk, and intertwining her fingers.

“The way I see it, is you have two choices. You can get reported, go before the school board, and most likely get expelled. Or I can keep this silent, and you can do a sort of community service in return.”

Connor hesitated slightly, not trusting her tone.

“What kind of community service…?”

 

* * *

 

 

After his meltdown at lunch, Evan had a pretty subdued day. He tried to pay attention to his classes, not wanting to fail, but he just felt drained. Nevertheless, he dutifully took notes and collected his homework.  
  
Evan sat in the computer labs ten minutes after the home bell rang, attempting to write a letter to himself. His therapy appointment was this Saturday, and he was expected to have at least one of these letters completed. He looked at what had written already.

_Dear Evan Hansen, today is going to be a good day_

He backspaced.

 _Dear Evan Hansen,_  
_Turns out this wasn’t an amazing day after all. This isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year, because why would it be?_

Evan took a deep breath.

_I know, I can’t put all my expectations on the first day. But it’s not like tomorrow is going to be any better. I’m still nothing, I’m still invisible. The closest person I had to friend doesn’t even want to be near me._

Deep down he’s always known Jared didn’t hang out with him by choice. But after years of being around each other, Evan had convinced himself that maybe, just maybe, Jared actually liked him as a person.

 _The only person who was nice to you today was Alana, who you’re going to have to disappoint because that’s what you do. You’re going to have to tell Alana you can’t audition for the school musical and she’ll hate you for it.  
_  
_So this isn’t going to be any better than last year._  
  
Evan attempted to fight a barrage of depressing thoughts that flooded in at the prospect of another year like the last one. When he got like this, Evan always tried to snap out of it by thinking about something that could make him happy. Something he could look forward to.

_I know, because there’s Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don’t even know, and doesn’t know me. Maybe if I could just talk to her. Maybe nothing would be different at all. I wish everything was different._

Even imagining some twisted alternate universe where someone like Zoe would notice him wasn’t helping today. Right now the only thing that could help Evan would be if he could just _stop_ being Evan. For once, just be someone else. Someone different.

Someone better.

_I wish I was part of something. I wish that anything I said mattered to anyone. I mean face it, would anyone notice if I just disappeared tomorrow?_

Evan finished off the letter before clicking print. He stood up slowly, barely having the energy to motivate himself for the walk home.

“So…”

Evan started suddenly, snapping his head up at the sound.

A dark, lanky figure stood a few monitors down from Evan.

Connor Murphy.

“Um, what happened to your arm?” Connor asked, pointing at Evan's cast.

Connor Murphy, the same Connor Murphy who pushed him earlier today and caused his panic attack, was asking about Evan's broken arm.

“Oh, I t- um…” Evan grasped for words, whirling his unbroken hand around as if to motion to something in the sky, “I fell out of a tree, actually.”

“…fell out of a tree?” Connor repeated.

Evan mumbled out a small “yeah”, picking at his fingernails nervously.

“Well that is just the saddest fucking thing I have ever heard, oh my God,” Connor breathed out in a quick laugh.

“I know,” Evan gave a shy smile and looked up.

Connor was smiling.

_Oh wow, he actually had a really nice smile._

Evan quickly looked away from the taller boy's face.

“Um, No one's ah… signed your cast,” Connor gestured to his arm.

“No, I know.”

Evan looked down at the blank plaster in embarrassment. Just another reminder of Evan's _successful_ day. Evan had almost considered faking some signatures to avoid the look of disappointed pity he would get from his mom. He was a terrible liar though, especially to his mother.

“Well, I’ll sign it.”

Evan looked up. Was he joking? Connor's face seemed earnest enough.

“Oh you –you don’t have to..” Evan backed away slightly. Best not to take the risk. There was no point forcing Connor to sign it. There was no way he actually wanted to.

“Do you have a sharpie?” Connor asked, not giving up.

Not wanting a confrontation, Evan walked over to Connor and handed him one from his pocket. Connor took it and grabbed Evans cast, pulling him closer in the process. Evan let out a quick “ow” at the harsh tug on his arm. Connor paused, eyeing Evan to make sure he was okay, before writing his name down in big, black letters. Connor capped the pen, and they both stepped back to admire his handiwork.

“Oh great…thanks...” Evan said, sarcasm bleeding into his voice as he looked at Connor's name, which now took up the entire cast. Who was he kidding, it’s not like anyone else was going to sign it anyway.

“Yeah, well, now we can both pretend that we have friends,” Connor said feigning nonchalance.

That hurt. More than Evan was expecting. He mumbled something along the lines “good point” as he walked past Connor towards the exit.

“Is this yours?”

Evan stopped, turning back to see Connor holding a piece of paper.

“Um, I found it on the printer. It’s _“Dear Evan Hansen”_ – that’s your name right?” Connor held out the letter, giving Evan another smile.

“Ye – yeah, no no no –no, that’s just a stupid – it's just this paper that I had to write-”

Evan stumbled over his own words, freaking out at the prospect of Connor having read his depressing letter.

Which is what Connor seemed to be doing now.

“-It's for an assignment…”

“… _audition for the school musical?_ ”

No no no no nononono.

Connor couldn't be reading Evans letter.

“Wait wait wait... _you’re_ auditioning for the school musical?” Connor asked in disbelief, looking Evan up and down.

“N –no no no, I’m not. It’s just a misunderstanding. My frien- I mean, a girl I know – she wanted to me to audition, but I’m not goi- I can’t.”

“Ah,” Connor said, re-reading the sentence, “Alana Beck. That explains it.”

“Heh,” Evan laughed nervously, trying to think of a way to get out of this situation. “Yeah, she um. She means well, and I don’t want to – I don’t want to disappoint her, you know?”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I get it.”

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah, it's actually pretty crazy. Someone’s trying to rope me into doing the school play, too. Well, the situations are pretty different- seeing as mine's a little less “well-intentioned peer pressure” and little more “school mandated lest I get expelled” but you know,” Connor shrugged, “same diff.”

“Oh…well, that’s...nice?”

“It fucking sucks.”

“Oh.”

“So are you going to do it?” Connor looked genuinely curious.

Evan stared back, his expression blankly.

“Do what…oh, the audition? Oh, um, I don’t know. I guess I sort of have to at least… think about it?”

Connor nodded.

Evan gestured to his letter hesitantly, “Can I have that back?”

Connor started, as though he only just realized he still had the others boy's assignment hostage. Glancing down at the paper, he held it out for Evan to take.

“Ah yeah, sorry about that…” he trailed off midsentence.

“ _Because there’s Zoe_ …?”

_No. Please. This can't be happening._

“Is this about my sister?”

“No nono-“

Connor nodded his head like something had clicked into place.

“You wrote this because you knew that I would find it.”

“What…?”

There was a dangerous pause.

“Yeah, you saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab so you wrote this and you printed it out so that I would find it…” Connor's voice began to shake.

“Why, um, why would I -?”

“So I could read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister and freak out, right?” Connor yelled, “And then you could tell everybody that _I’m_ crazy!”

“What?”

“RIGHT?”

“No!”

“Fuck you!” Connor stormed past Evan, intent on leaving.

It a moment of blind panic and desperation, that Evan grabbed Connor Murphy’s sleeve.

“Nononono but really, I need that back so -please can you just - canyoupleasegiveitback!”

Connor whirled around at the pressure on his arm and pushed Evan up against the computer labs wall, pinning him there with his forearm.

“Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.” He breathed out harshly into Evan's face.

Evan scrunched his eyes shut as though it would help him disappear and began spewing out words at a mile per minute.

“I'm so sorry sosossorry, please don’t, just can I – I didn’t mea- I didn’t think, I-I just couldn’t let you leave-"

“Yeah? So you could laugh at me some more?” Connor snarled.

“No, I swear I never – I wasn’t laughing at you. I just don’t know how to react to most situations, I can't- I’m not good at it and I swearthatletterisn’tcreepy - at least it's not meant to be," Connor gripped Evans shirt tighter. “Oh uh, wow you’re a lot stronger than you look – not th–that you don’t look strong, it's just surprising -just I’m really sorry for everything, please, pleasedontpunchme.”

Connor loosened his grip and stepped back. He looked surprised, as though he hadn’t realized he had Evan pinned to the wall in the first place. All his anger seemed to wash away suddenly, leaving a boy who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but here.

“What do you want Hansen?” He sighed, glancing at the door.

“I ah, can I have my letter back?”

Connor tensed, looking at Evan with thinly veiled hostility.

“Why?"

“I- I need it formytherapist.”

Connor looked up, considering Evan's outburst.

Then shook his head.

“Good one, Hansen,” Connor pulled a forced grin. “A therapist. I get it- ' _the psycho needs to get his brain checked out.'"_

“No, I –“

“Props to you; you really stuck to the bit. Kudos.”

With a sarcastic bow in Evan's direction, Connor made his way to the exit with the letter still crumpled in his hand and slammed the door behind him.

Evan slid down the wall.

Only for Zoe Murphy to slam the door back open.

“Oh my god, “ she said, spotting Evan and rushing forward to give him a hand, “I’m sorry about my brother - Did he push you? I just saw him leave, he’s a psychopath.”

Evan couldn’t keep up with today. Between Jared, Alana, Connor, and now Zoe, he could honestly say this was the most he’d interacted with people his age since Jared had told everyone it was Evan's birthday last year.

Zoe still had her hand out. He quickly wiped his hands against his jeans before deciding it would be safer just to pick himself up off the floor.

“Um, no I’m –it’s alright.” He said, straightening his rumpled shirt.

“You're Evan right?”

“Evan” He nodded.

“That’s your name?”

“Yes it is, it's Evan, sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you said Evan, you said it, and then I repeated it which is just – that is so annoying when people do that.”

“Oh, well, I’m Zoe”

“Yes, no, I know.”

“…You know?”

“Yeah, I just - I mean I’ve seen you play guitar in jazz band - I love jazz band, I love jazz -Well not _all_ jazz, but definitely like jazz band jazz. That’s so weird, I’m sorry.”

“You apologize a lot,” Zoe pointed out, not unkindly.

“Sorry- uh I mean, you know what I mean…”

Evan wasn’t sure what he was saying was even close to words, but Zoe seemed to take it in stride. She also seemed to be trying to leave. And as excited, and nauseous, as Evan was to be finally be speaking to _the_ Zoe Murphy, what he really needed was to head home and lie in bed silently for about four hours. But a weird, dense knot had formed in his stomach since his interaction with Connor, and he knew it wouldn't go away until he at least tried to fix what happened.

“Um, Zoe…?” He stared at his hands as they picked at his shirt hemline. “Could you tell your brother I said I’m really sorry for what happened?”

Evan tilted his head up in time to catch Zoe’s confused expression.

“…What?”

“I didn’t mean for, uh, what happened – to…happen? But it was my fault, and if you could please tell him that I’m sorry?”

Zoe gave him a disbelieving look.

“I mean, obviously you don’t have to. Of course you don’t – you might not want, to uh –“ Evan started to backtrack.

“…Ok. Sure, I’ll try. He doesn’t normally listen to anything I say though.” Zoe shrugged.

“Oh, that’s um – well thank you, for trying? And tell him thank you as well, if you could, for signing my cast.“ He gestured to his arm.

Zoe pinned him with a quizzical glance.

“You’re a strange kid Evan.”

“I know.”

Evan watched as Zoe left, her long dirty, blonde hair bouncing with each step, and sighed. His first interaction with Zoe Murphy, and he came off as a gibbering loser who just wanted to pester her about her brother.

He looked down at his cast and remembered Connor smiling at him, offering to sign it. For a brief moment, it had seemed as though someone actually wanted to be around Evan.

 


	2. Convincing the talent

It’s very possible that Connor Murphy had fucked up. Not that he wasn’t used to fucking up. He was just less used to trying to _fix_ his fuck ups. Which is what he was doing now. After second-guessing himself the entire walk from school yesterday, his sister had managed to pin him down to judge and shout at him. Unfortunately for Connor's conscience she had also told him about Evan's attempt to apologize to him.

_“Connor!” He could hear his sister yelling from the kitchen. Connor groaned and flopped back onto his bed, rubbing his eyes and wishing this day could just end already._

_The proceeding thumps of self-righteous footsteps up the stairs signaled to Connor an impending “talking to.”_

_Zoe burst into Connor's room. “What did you do to Evan?”_

_"Who?”_

_Did Hansen snitch to his sister? Connor wasn’t even aware they talked to each other._

_“Evan Hansen. I saw him in the computer lab right after you left.”_

_Connor scoffed, “And what was the murder weapon, Professor Plum? A memory stick?”_

_"He was on the floor, Connor.”_

_"I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connor said stiffly before rolling onto his side, away from his sister. Internally, Connor panicked. He really didn’t know what Zoe was talking about. Why was Evan on the ground? He hadn’t pushed him, he was almost sure of it. Not_ that _time anyway. He was pretty sure he hadn’t pushed Evan. Shit. What if he had? Connor didn’t always seem to have full control over what happened when he was angry._

_Zoe was still standing there._

_"Get out of my room.”_

_"Ugh,” his sister huffed, crossing her arms. “You know, Evan seems like a nice kid. He doesn’t deserve your bullshit.”_

_Connor grabbed the nearest book and threw it over his shoulder in Zoe’s general direction. Glancing backwards, he saw her unimpressed glare and the paperback on the floor a meter to the left._

_"I can’t believe he told me to apologize to you,” Zoe said, turning towards the door._

_"Wait,” Connor sat up, “Evan did?”_

_Zoe paused. “Yeah Connor, he did. Because he’s a decent human being. He also told me to thank you for signing his cast. I told him you wouldn’t listen to me, because you don’t listen to anyone.” Zoe sighed, “Look just stay away from him, alright? He doesn’t seem like the type of person who could handle….you.”_

_With that, Zoe walked out of his bedroom._

_“Close the door!” Connor yelled after her before getting up to do it himself._

_Well that was a fun conversation._

After Zoe left, Connor had decided to read Evan's note fully. And immediately concluded that he had indeed royally fucked himself. The note was clearly written by someone who was struggling with serious issues. Issues Connor could relate to. Loneliness, self-doubt, depression. Even the small part that mentioned his sister wasn’t as terrible as he’d thought – honestly, it could mean anything. Maybe Evan just admired his sister, god knows why. He did mention the school's play after all; maybe he wanted to team up with her for something musical?

All he knew was that he had gone off at some poor kid who had no friends, saw a therapist for severely depressing thoughts and who apologized to _him_ for it. So, cancelling plans to skip the next few days to smoke weed in his mom's abandoned hobby greenhouse until he forgot the world and the world forgot about him, Connor had shown up to school to talk to Evan Hansen.

Which was actually an incredibly difficult task seeing as how Hansen seemed to blend into his surroundings like some fucking awkward chameleon. Seriously, where the hell was he? 

Lunch bell had gone off 15 minutes ago, but Connor went the long way around the school to avoid running into half of the football team. He had a quick look in the cafeteria but must have missed the other boy by a narrow margin. After doing what seemed to be three laps of the school, Connor spotted the telltale blue stripes of Hansen’s top peeking out from behind one of the trees that lined the oval towards the back of the school. 

Approaching the tree, Connor got an intense dose of déjà vu. Yesterday he had intended to mend bridges with this same boy when he had seen him in the computer lab. Connor took a deep breath; hopefully this time would go smoother. Less shouting at least.

Evan visibly jumped when Connor rounded the tree to face him.

“C-Connor! Sorry, I – is this, am I in your spot?” Evan seemed to shrink into himself even more than normal, eyes wide, staring intently at a patch of grass a meter in front of him. 

Connor looked around, considering the location. “Yes actually, this spot that I have never been to before, I am now claiming as mine.” Goddamn it. Why couldn’t he just _not_ be an asshole for two seconds?

Evan looked as though he was seriously considering getting up and giving Connor his seat under the oak tree. He began gathering up his notebooks and pens into his backpack. Stepping forward, Connor brought his hands up in an aborted gesture to stop Evan leaving.

“Shit, no. I was just joking, Hansen. Sit back down.” Connor pinched the bridge of his nose. “I actually came here to say – uh…”

Apologizing was not his forte.

“Look, I was out of line the other day in the computer lab. And before that. Let’s just agree that I’m a huge fuckup, and I shouldn’t have done any of that shit to you. So here’s your note-” Connor pulled Evan's letter from his back pocket before realizing it was crumpled. After attempting to smooth it out against his thigh, Connor gave up and passed it to a confused looking Evan. “So there’s that, and I’ll just be going.”

Connor glanced over at the oval, mentally bracing himself for Evan to shoot down his terrible apology. The football team seemed to be congregating at the tables on the other side of the field. 

 _Wonderful_.

“O – oh okay. Thanks- thank you,” Evan folded the note, neatly placing it in his backpack. He seemed to consider something briefly, looking up at the taller boy before looking back down at his hands. “Did, uh, did your sister tell you what I - my message?”

Connor nodded, not wanting to talk about Zoe.

“Well, I meant it.” he said as he began drawing circles in the dirt. “About saying sorry. And thank you, for um, you know,” Evan trailed off, lifting up his injured arm slightly to gesture to Connor's signature. 

Man, this kid was way too nice. Way too nice for him. It actually sounded like he had forgiven Connor. Not only that, but he still seemed to think _he_ was to blame for what happened? No wonder he had no friends apart from Kleinman. No one was this open and forgiving without immediately getting taken advantage of by the human pieces of garbage that infested this high school.

“Why aren’t you in the cafeteria?” Connor asked, noticing Evan's lack of food.

“Oh…I’m not really hungry?”

Evan's stomach growled loudly.

Connor raised an eyebrow. Before Evan could stammer out an excuse Connor reached into his satchel and pulled out two snack bars, throwing them over to him.

“Don’t sweat it, I hate the cafeteria too.” Connor sat down next to Evan, leaning against the oak tree. It was actually pretty nice here. Not much foot traffic and a nice amount of sun.

Evan shuffled over to make room for Connor. “It’s very noisy, and everyone’s rushing. I always feel like I’m getting in everyone’s way.”

Connor hummed in agreement, opening one of the bars. “People suck,” he said through a mouth full rolled oats. “This is a good spot, though. I might have to steal it.”

Evan chuckled nervously, following Connor's example and opening his bar.

They ate in silence. Evan took out a notebook he had been using when Connor first showed up. Homework it looked like, or class notes. Connor drew idly in the dirt while enjoying a rare moment of peace. It wasn’t quite comfortable, but it was better than sitting alone glaring at anyone who tried to come near him. Connor almost felt relaxed.

After a few minutes, Connor broke the silence. “So, Hansen. You decided what to do about your musical dilemma?” He chucked his empty wrapper a few meters in front of them.

“Uh, no, not really…” Evan seemed to be somewhat distracted by the empty wrapper in front of them. His hand twitched slightly before he looked away and said, “I made the mistake of mentioning it to my mom. She, uh, thinks it’s a great idea, for like college applications and…making friends,” he mumbled the last few words. 

Connor sucked in a sympathetic breath. There wasn’t much worse than your own mother knowing you don’t have any friends. “Sounds like you're gonna have to do it.”

Evan looked up at him, alarmed. Connor held up his palms in defense.

“Don’t look at me, you’re the one who got yourself into this mess. I just meant you don’t seem like the kind who would willingly disappoint people.”

“Yeah well, um, how did you – how come you’re, um…doing the play?”

Connor began to pick at the root near his hand. “I’m not. Ms. Deely thinks she busted me for drugs – said she was going to expel me unless I ‘ _gave back to the school community.’ -_ I’m pretty sure she was bluffing.”

“Oh. Wow. That’s uh…that is ..th-can you pleasestopdoingthat?!” Evan raised his voice, squeezing his eyes shut.

Connor took a moment to realize he was talking about pulling at the tree roots. He was too distracted by how Evan Hansen had actually raised his voice at him. Judging by his demeanor, it took considerable courage. Connor snatched his hands away from the ground and held them up to show Evan that he wasn’t harming the tree. 

“S-sorry. It’s just important, for the tree's growth, to be able to take nutrients and, and filter the chemicals. There’s just really no reason to da-damage the roots, you know. Um, so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you, but also please don’t do that?” Evan opened one eye to peek out at Connor reaction.

Connor stared back at him, palms still in the air, somewhat speechless at the outbreak. Then he cracked a smile.

“Oh my god, you really like trees, don’t you?”

Evan smiled back shyly. “I mean, I am sort of an expert.”

“Holy shit, Hansen. What even are you? No one has trees as a hobby.”

Seeing Evan retreat into himself at his words, Connor backpedaled. “Nonono, it’s cool. It’s pretty damn awesome to be honest. You do you, you know?“

“Uh, well, in that case…” Evan stood up, walking over to Connor's discarded wrapper. He picked it up, and put it in the bin nearby, then turned to face Connor as though daring him to object.

Connor burst out laughing. He couldn’t think of anything funnier than Evan’s defiant face as he properly disposed of trash in an environmentally conscious manner, as though he had just done some daring and rebellious crime.

Connor stood up and walked over to him, “You’re alright, Hansen.”

Evan ducked his head.

The warning bell snapped Connor out of his good mood.

_Back to the real world then. But first…_

“So, this wasn’t completely awful…do it again sometime?” Connor almost crossed his fingers before remembering he wasn’t some 13-year-old girl with a crush, and instead picked at his faded nail polish. He actually enjoyed hanging out with this kid. And if whatever shit-tier guardian angel that was meant to be looking out for him was actually doing their job, hopefully Evan enjoyed his company, too.

“Yeah, it was –definitely, um, do it again sometime. If you want, that is.”

Inner Connor fist pumped. Outer Connor much more suavely bobbed his head in acknowledgment. 

“Well, I am going to jump the fence to avoid walking within 20 meters of those meatheads over there,“ he gestured to the football team, which was beginning to thin out now the bell had gone off, “and I will see you around, Hansen.”

With a two fingered salute, Connor made quick work of the fence and began to walk through the parking lot, taking yet another long-short-cut towards his class.

 

Class turned out to suck less than normal. It being only the second day of school, the teachers lacked the normal hostility they usually had towards Connor for whatever minor transgressions he had committed – skipping class, not doing homework, talking back to them – seeing as he hadn’t committed any yet. This allowed him to pay minimal attention, replaying his lunch with Evan in his head over and over again.

Even after several playbacks, the whole scenario looked pretty good to Connor. Sure he could have been smoother, what with startling Evan in the beginning and then teasing him about his favorite hobby – but all in all not too shabby. It had been a while since Connor actually felt somewhat positive about something. And his exit had been pretty fucking slick. Nothing like a lazy salute and too-cool-for-school fence jump to reinforce a devilish bad-boy image. Not that he was – a bad boy or devilish, that is. He was just a useless fucking stoner with no future. However, he was damned if he was going to let Evan see that side of him.

Not that he was trying to _charm_ Evan. He was just trying to… get Evan to like him? God that sounded dumb.

Connor mushed his face into the desk in front him.

Thinking about it, he had sort of left Evan to fend for himself with all those jocks. Maybe he should have offered to walk him back to class? No - that would have put a larger target on Evan's back. Shit, what if he actually did have a run in with those neanderthals? He could be seriously hurt while Connor was daydreaming about how to impress him. 

By the time school let out, Connor found himself standing at the front gates having worked himself up into a frenzy, convinced he had left Evan lying in a ditch somewhere. He could walk home or catch a ride with Zoe, but he didn’t want to leave without knowing if Evan was okay. Luckily for his nails, which Connor had begun to chew in his last class, he spotted a familiar head of neatly brushed hair amongst the crowds pouring out of the school front doors. He looked fine, or at least as though he hadn’t experienced any of the horrible scenarios that Connor had been imagining. Connor breathed a sigh of relief. However, he was now faced with the awkward dilemma of potential eye contact as Hansen came closer.

But Evan was staring at the ground, seemingly intent on watching everyone’s feet and avoiding any potential collisions with the rest of the student body. It gave Connor a great excuse to stare at him like some sort of totally normal, non-creepy bystander without the danger of Evan seeing him. The shorter teen seemed to be alone, no annoying best friend hovering around him. Come to think of it, shouldn’t Kleinman have been around Evan at lunch? Not that he wasn't glad.

Now that Connor was actually taking the time to observe Evan, he realized that the other boy was not too bad to look at. Sure his anxious demeanor and avoidance of eye contact might throw off some people, but he had a nice “boy-next-door” vibe. And really expressive eyes.

Eyes that were now looking at him.

During his brain's mental vacation, Evan had apparently noticed Connor hovering around the front gates. Hansen faltered slightly, a few meters from Connor, unsure if he was invited to approach or not. Internally punching himself in the face, Connor waved Evan over, stepping further away from the flowing crowd and dumping his satchel at his feet.

Evan gave an awkward, small wave as he approached. “Uh, hey…were you waiting for someone?”

“…. _Nah_.” Best not creep him out with the multiple horror scenarios he had invented. “On an unrelated note, how was your day?”

Look at him. Conversing like a normal, functioning human being.

“It was um, good -it was fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a normal day. At school…So yes, good – it was good. Um, thanks for asking?” Evan rubbed the back of his neck.

Well, it was good to know that neither of them were good at small talk. Connor was just about to tell Evan he’d see him tomorrow when-

“Oh perfect, I’ve been looking for both of you.”

-Alana popped out of nowhere.

Evan jumped, turning to face Alana and stepping backward onto Connor's foot in the process. Connor bit back an “Ow, fuck” as Hansen had already devolved into a litany of apologies. Connor shot Evan a look that hopefully communicated that it was fine, he would live, before trying to tune in on what Alana was saying.

“- saw that neither of you have signed up on the notice board for the school play. Ms. Deely is trying to move as fast as possible through the initial auditions for the play and has charged me with ensuring enough people sign up and show up. And I am taking this role very seriously.”

She passed each of the two boys a sign-up sheet and said, “I need you both to fill in your information and the time you're available for auditions by tomorrow. There’s also information about the musical and the roles you’ll be auditioning for. It’s very exciting.”

Evan nodded, looking more than a little intimidated, and folding the sheet neatly.

“Hah, yeah…. I’m not doing this” Connor waved the sheet before holding it out for Alana to take.

Alana laughed lightly, and an awkward pause ensued. Evan looked back and forth between the two - Connor with his deadpan expression, Alana with her polite smile and intensely expectant stare. Evan coughed quietly to break the silence.

Alana spoke first. “Yes you are, Connor. Ms. Deely specifically told me to get your signature.”

“Well, Ms. Deely can shov-“

“And not to mention, she has your parents' support with a very generous donation."

“She has _what_...?” Connor went dangerously still.

“Oh yeah. I overheard her calling your parents to tell them about your participation in the play. They sounded very proud.”

“They did, did they?” Connor gritted out, crumpling up the paper in his hand. He couldn’t believe his parents. Or actually, he could. First time they’ve taken an interest in his life since grade school, and they fucking pay off a teacher? 

“Well if you’d excuse me…”

Connor snatched his satchel off the ground and started to walk off stiffly. 

Wrapped up in his own mind, Connor almost missed Evan small “goodbye.” Connor faltered and spun around, almost tripping over his own feet in the process.

“Sorry, uh see yo- I’ll,” Connor tried to rush the words out, walking backward, “I just - Call me.” 

_Shit. Fuck. Damn._

He did not mean to say that. Connor was getting emotional whiplash from the last few minutes alone. Never mind, his legs had already carried him outside the school gates and down the sidewalk. Plus, he had a shouting match with his parents to mentally prepare for.

  

* * *

 

 _Dear Evan Hansen,  
__  
Today was,_ Evan paused, _an interesting day._

That was an understatement. Evan had started the school day worrying about what Connor was going to do with his note – to the point where he was almost going to tell Jared just so he could vent out all the nightmarish possibilities – and ended up on what some might call friendly terms with him. Not that Evan would use that terminology. No, he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There’s no way Connor Murphy actually wanted to be buddies with him. There had to be some ulterior motive, right?

Evan had to admit, lunch had been sort of wonderful. Terrifying, but wonderful. To actually be able to sit and talk, enjoy the company of another person, a person that seemed to enjoy his company back? Evan's hands had even stopped sweating as furiously towards the end of the break. Not to mention, he had even gone on an embarrassing tree rant and hadn’t scared the other boy off. Or had he? Wait, what if Connor had just wanted to apologize, and Evan had kept him as some sort of verbal hostage so that he had to spend time with him? Connor could have been thinking he was some pathetic freak that whole time and hated every moment. Not that Connor seemed like the type to hold his tongue in situations he disliked. Though, despite what Evan had previously thought, Connor was a lot nicer than he'd expected.

Evan stared at his run-down laptop screen realizing he’d never be able to type all of this down in coherent words. After half-assing some of his thoughts down on the screen, he gave up before saving it and closing the document. He wished he had homework to distract him, but what little had been given out on the second day he had already completed. 

Of course that meant that now all he had to worry about was what Connor had meant when he shouted “call me” at the end of school. Evan didn’t have Connor's number. He didn’t have any way of getting Connor's number. Evan looked at his phone thinking of the few contacts he did have. Sucking in a deep breath, knowing this was a terrible idea, he texted Jared.

**_Do you have Connor Murphy’s number?_ **

His phone started ringing almost immediately. This is what Evan was hoping to avoid.

“What the hell Evan?” Jared’s voice rang out loudly as soon as he answered. “Why the hell do you need Connor Murphy’s phone number?”

“I – uh. He wa- he has something of mine.”

“What?”

“A letter. That I wrote to myself." 

“A letter? To yourself? What the hell? Is that some kind of sex thing…?”

“N-no! It’s just something I have to do for my therapist.”

“Man you are screeeeewed. He is going to ruin your life.”

“O-oh. You think?” Evan was beginning to regret contacting Jared.

“I mean, Jesus Christ, I don’t see you for one day, and you’ve already painted a target on your back for the person most likely to bring _actual_ weapons to school?”

“You brought a katana to school last year.”

“Yeah! And it was sick. Plus, that was more of a learning experience than anything. Sharing the culture of Japan.”

“You ordered it off Amazon.”

“Mmmm…Mrs. Green didn’t buy that excuse either.”

“I just- do you have his number or not?”

“Connor's? Of course not,” Jared chuckled. ”I love that you think I’m some sort of slick school socialite, but I’m not even sure that freak has a phone. I don’t even think Alana has his number.”

“Oh. Okay. Well thanks anyway, I guess.”

Evan hung up the call, putting his head in his hands. Would Connor be mad when Evan didn't call? Did Connor think he had given Evan his number at some point, and was now thinking Evan didn’t want to contact him, even though he went out of his way to sit by him and lunch and was really nice and he didn’t make that much fun of Evan when he was acting like a loser? 

Evan groaned, slamming his head down on the keyboard and accidentally opening up Facebook in a tab. That was… an idea. Evan looked up Connor Murphy’s name and hesitantly started typing.

 

* * *

 

Cynthia and Larry were both seated at the kitchen table when Connor got home. A plate of cucumber and Philadelphia cheese briskets were neatly arranged next to a pitcher of sugar-free lemonade. Connor's mom held a half-finished glass in her hand, while the other drummed lightly on the table. Larry’s grim face looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else to avoid the impending catastrophe that was the Murphy’s version of 'family time'. The clock ticked loudly in the background. So all in all, a great scenario to come home to.

Cynthia jumped from her seat the moment the front door slammed shut. Connor dropped his bag from his shoulder with a bang and stood in front of the door, pointedly ignoring the chair obviously intended for him. He knew something like this was likely coming. It’s not the first time he’s come home to a Murphy Family Meeting, generally after one of his episodes.

Leaning against the doorframe, Connor checked out his nails with disinterest.“So mom, bribed any teachers lately?”

“Connor…” Larry warned. Cynthia put a calming hand on his shoulder. 

“Connor, sweetie, your teacher called us today, Ms. Deely I think it was – lovely woman – and told us about your school play.” 

Connor met his mother gaze with an unimpressed expression.

“She also mentioned the… misdemeanor, and how she kindly offered the alternative solution as opposed to harsher punishments.” 

Larry coughed something that sounded like “expulsion.”

“Did you want to say something there, Larry?” Connor asked sickly sweet.

“Don’t call your father that.”

“No, actually I do.” Larry stood up, pointing at Connor. “This is the last straw, Connor. I’m putting my foot down.”

“Gee dad, any more clichés you want to get off your chest?”

“Honey…”

“No, Cynthia. If our kid is dumb enough to bring drugs to school, then he deserves to get expelled. He obviously doesn’t care, why should I?”

“Tell us how you really feel.” Crossing his arms, Connor leaned against the doorframe.

“That’s it. We’re cutting you off – no more money, no more credit card. From now on you go to school every day, no exceptions. If I catch you smoking pot, I will kick you out of my house. “ With that Larry shoved his chair back into the table and marched off in the direction of the garage.

Cynthia sighed and sat down defeated. Connor was about to make his retreat upstairs when she spoke – “Connor…look, we’re trying. We really are. But I don’t know how to help you.”

That wasn’t news. Even Connor didn’t know how to help himself. Although he was pretty sure Larry stopped trying a long time ago.

“What your father said…He’s not wrong. He might have been a little…forceful, but there needs to be a change. _Something_ needs to change. We can’t keep doing this and going around in circles.” She began clearing up the glasses on the table. Packing away the remains of what Cynthia had hoped would be a calm family discussion, she considered the almost full plate of snacks before tipping the contents into the bin.

“So, what? You think I can just suddenly become this model student because Larry ‘puts his foot down?'” Connor deepened his voice mockingly. His mom placed the rinsed dishes in the dishwasher, closing it forcefully.

“I want you to _try,_ Connor. And if that means you have to do the school play so you're not expelled, then so be it!” Wiping her hands hurriedly on a tea- towel, Cynthia turned to face her son. “Please. If you keep up your attendance, I’ll even give you your car back.”

“…Keep it up for how long?”

His mom shot him a half-disappointed-half-bemused look. “Two months.”

“Two weeks,” Connor shot back.

“One month-"

“Done.” 

“-AND you audition for this play your teacher wants you to do.” 

Connor grabbed an apple from the fruit basket and pointed it at his mother saying, “You are an unusually cruel woman”, before taking his bag and vaulting upstairs.

All in all, that wasn’t the worst family chat Connor had had to endure. It had all the classics –yelling, his mother's misplaced optimism, someone storming off, a general air of disappointment. At least he hadn’t lost his temper. That might have something to do with the amount of trashcans he kicked on the way over from school.

But there was silver lining - the possibility of getting his car back. His keys had been taken from him six months ago when Zoe had caught him smoking on the roof and snitched to Larry. Connor had been so furious, he had almost beaten down Zoe’s door before Larry pulled him off and locked him in his room. He hated thinking about it. He shouldn’t have done that to Zoe. He'd had just felt so betrayed and angry. A deep hatred of everything seemed to run through his veins like poison, pulsing and writhing until he had to let it out. Then afterwards, he was left empty, numb. A little more broken than before.

His mom seemed to think he was getting better. Connor hadn’t had an outburst all summer break. Truth was he had just learned to bottle it, direct the hatred at himself and keep it on a low simmer. Keeping to himself seemed to do the trick. Not that he had hundreds of people lining up to spend the summer with him. He had considered ending everything multiple times over break. The first day back at school had almost convinced him to. But he didn’t want to give everyone the satisfaction. Sure his mom might grieve for a while, but in the end she would be able to move on. Maybe even repaint his memory into the perfect son he never was. No one would miss him.

But why should he give that to them? Why give his family the perfect son when they had done nothing to deserve that? No, they got to deal with the psychotic, weed-smoking freak that they helped create. Connor threw his apple core half-heartedly toward the bin. He had gone over this so many times he forgot if he was arguing against or for his own life.

His phone dinged, drawing him out of his thoughts.

Pulling his phone out of his satchel, he saw a Facebook message from Evan Hansen.

Scrambling onto his bed, Connor quickly unlocked his phone and read.

_**Evan Hansen: Hello Connor,** _

**_So I hope this isn’t too out of line, because you said to call you after school, and I don’t have your number, so I thought Facebook might work? I’m not even sure if you check your messages. You probably don’t. I’m so sorry. I’ll stop bothering you now._ **

Connor muffled a laugh. He saw the three dots indicating Evan was still typing something.

_Ding!_

**_Evan Hansen: Please don’t read that message._ **

The three dots appeared again.

_Ding!_

**_Evan Hansen: I mean you obviously have read the message, because it has that little tick next to it that means you’ve seen it, but can you please forget that message? I didn’t mean to send it._ **

A pause. Then another message appeared.

**_Evan Hansen: My fingers slipped…?_ **

Connor started to type back before Evan had a panic attack.

**_Connor Murphy: Cool it, hansen its fine_ **

**_Evan Hansen: Oh. Good._ **

**_Evan Hansen: :)_ **

**_Evan Hansen: I’m sorry, that was weird._ **

**_Connor Murphy: :) :) :)_ **

**_Connor Murphy: So Hansen._ **

**_Evan Hansen: Yes…?_ **

Connor took a deep breath.

**_Connor Murphy: Meet me at school tomorrow?_ **

**_Connor Murphy: I have a plan._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might shorten the chapters so I can post more frequently.  
> Tell me if you catch any mistakes/have any ideas/just wanna chat.  
> Tumblr is youvejustbeenducked.
> 
> Next up - Chapter 3 "I Can't Dance"


	3. I Don't Dance (I Know You Can)

 

Waiting off to the side of the school gates a full half an hour early for the first bell, Evan quietly hoped to himself that the trend of Connor giving him vague instructions would stop soon. It wasn’t good for his hyperactive brain.

Evan could have asked for clarification for the other teen's _"Meet me at school"_  message, but instead he had just confirmed that yes, he would meet him without knowing when or where or why or anything really. So here he stood. He'd changed his locations several times already. First, he started off in front of the school gates where Connor would be able to see him clearly. Then he realized Connor might not want other people to see them together; standing out in front of the school gates also drew a lot of curious gazes. Pretty much everyone was looking at him as they passed on their way into school. So he moved just behind the gates where Connor had pulled him aside the other day. After spending ten minutes pacing in a small circle, worrying whether Connor would even see him there, he moved back to the front of the gates, but slightly off to the side where he pretended to be occupied with fishing something out of his backpack for another few minutes. Noticing other students loitering around the front, Evan switched to checking his phone, not wanting them to wonder why the weird kid had his hands in his bag for an unreasonably long time.

Five minutes before the first bell, Evan was preparing to move a third time when a brown blur brushed past him.

“Hansen! Shit, sorry,” Connor steadied him. “Are you waiting for me?”

Evan nodded, watching as other students rushed to class. Connor clearly wasn’t expecting Evan to be waiting for him here. He must have picked the wrong spot. Or time. Maybe he just read Connor's message wrong. Either way, Evan had definitely messed up. 

“I should have said that, I mea – Oh fuck.” Connor was looking over Evan’s shoulder. “Uhhhh, let’s walk and talk.” Connor grabbed Evans and steered him through the gates and behind one of the grand brick pillars that stood at the entrance.

Pushed into a corner, tucked away from prying eyes, Evan's confusion was drowned out by blaring warning signs flashing in his head reminding him that he was stuck between a hard surface and someone who had a reputation for lashing out in anger. Not to mention he had been in two physical altercations with Connor already. Come to think of it, Connor slammed him up against a wall last time he had gotten angry at Evan. Was that a coincidence, or was that something Evan should be getting used to? Because he was pretty accustomed to people not touching him, and he’s not sure he could handle being around someone who interacts through wall slams. It’s not going to be good for his heart. Speaking of his heart, it was beating way too fast. Connor was really close to him. He was also really tall, and more than a little intimidating. Not to mention oh-so-capable of taking Evan in a fight.

 _Calm down,_ Evan thought _, this is still the same person who sat with you yesterday and called your tree obsession ‘pretty awesome’. He’s not going to hurt you…probably._

Evan's eyes darted from the hand on his shoulder to Connor, searching his body language and expression for an answer to what was going on.

Connor had his other hand clenched around the strap of his bag, his body leaning slightly over Evan's with about a foot of space between them. He a was wearing the same slightly rumpled clothes from yesterday - a somber outfit of black skinny jeans and a gray top with a short sleeve button up left open for the summer heat. The other boy wasn’t paying attention, intensely looking at something over Evan's shoulder while gnawing at his lip. Unfortunately, due to the height difference and the close distance, that left Evan with an up close and personal view of to the lip biting. Evan blinked, breaking out of his slight daze. 

“Uh, Connor…?” he squeaked out. 

Connor hurriedly covered Evan's mouth with his hand, pushing closer to him and making a clipped shushing sound without breaking his gaze on whatever was behind him. A few more seconds passed. Evan was definitely making Connor's hand clammy with his breathing. Just as he was considering holding his breath for however long this was going to take – really passing out now would just be an added bonus- Connor seemed to relax a little, his eyes losing their intensity and sliding back to Evan.

Connor, judging by his somewhat alarmed expression, had just realized the lack of space between them. Taking in what must have been the charming sight of Evan's best frightened deer impression, Connor snatched his hand away from Evan's mouth and jumped back. Placing his hands firmly on his shoulder strap, Connor looked up at the heavens with a pained expression. Evan remained pressed up against the pillar - mainly to maximize personal space but also because he was too panicked to move.

“Um wh-what – why…did-“ Evan attempted.

Connor muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘fuck my life’ before looking back down at Evan. “It was just – it was my sister. I didn’t want her to see us talking.”

“Oh. Th-th-that actually makes, um sense? Yeah. Sorry, um I –“ Evan began to separate from the wall, resuming his normal hunched posture.

“No! Shit, that came out wrong. It's just Zoe – she hates me. She’s the biggest loudmouth, and I don’t want her to see me with you and then tell-" 

“No, um, it’s fine. Not a problem. Totally cool. Cool beans….”

It wasn’t a problem. Evan should have known Connor wouldn’t want people to know that they were…that they were interacting. He should be glad that anyone wanted to talk to him in the first place. Connor looked unsure but seemed to accept his answer.

“So you mentioned – over Facebook, you said you had a plan…?” Evan asked, changing the subject.

Connor's face lit up with a knowing smirk. “I do. Tell you what – meet me your spot for lunch, and I’ll fill you in then. Don’t worry," he patted his satchel, “I brought snacks.” 

Evan nodded jerkily. Great. That sounded…great. Now he just had a couple more hours of waiting and mentally deconstructing and reconstructing what Connor had said in order to wildly speculate what was going to happen.

 

* * *

  

Evan had been sitting in his lunch spot by the oak tree for ten minutes before he heard a metallic rustle and looked up to see Connor coming over the fence in front of him. Lucky for Connor, the fence around the back of the school was the chain link kind instead of the nice iron wrought spikes which decorated the front.

Landing with a thud next to his bag, Connor dusted himself off and walked towards Evan with a nonchalant expression. “Alright, we have muesli bars, a pack of assorted nuts, and these weird…greenish muffins.” Connor plopped down next to Evan, pulling out the food he had brought. “I think they have zucchini in them.” 

Evan took the muffin cautiously, turning it over in his hands.

Connor shot him an apologetic look, “Yeah, my mom’s on a weird health kick at the moment. We don’t have normal food.”

“No, that’s fine –Thank you. It’s really nice that your mom is so, um health conscious. I probably eat too much junk food.” Evan took a tentative bite of the muffin. It wasn’t terrible.

Connor shook his head, “You wouldn’t think it was so great if you had to survive on kale based food for the last three months.” He stared at his muffin with repulsion. “I would kill for a pizza.” 

Evan thought about how he'd been living off pizza for the last few days in a row. Or at least, he was meant to be – he never got around to ordering any and instead had been defrosting whatever he found in the refrigerator.

“So,” Connor grabbed a handful of cashews and started chewing them before continuing, “You ready to hear my big idea?”

“Oh, um - yeah. I had completely forgotten about that. Not that I don’t listen to what you say, I just meant that I, you know, hadn’t been thinking about it non-stop all day. And last night.” Evan laughed awkwardly.

Connor gave Evan a skeptical look, unsure if he was joking or not. Evan swallowed loudly.

“Ok so, with this school musical - we both need to audition for different reasons. You because you can’t say no to Alana and your mom," Evan nodded slowly in agreement, “and me because my parents' hobby is apparently thinking of new ways to make my life miserable. So we have to audition right?”

“Yeah…” Evan wasn’t sure where this was going.

The corner of Connor's lips quirked up. “No one ever said we had to audition _well_.”

Connor looked at Evan expectantly, waiting for a reaction.

“Wh- what?”

“Look," Connor crossed his legs, turning to face Evan, “neither of us wants to be in the play, right? If we audition even slightly seriously, we will get put in this show. I have the feeling the Ms. Deely is desperate to get people involved – otherwise why the fuck would she want me to be in it?” 

Evan began to make polite objections but was interrupted.

“No that wasn’t me fishing for compliments. Seriously, there is no reason for her to want me to be in this play – I’m more likely to burn down the production down than help out in any way. The bottom line is I’d rather avoid a fate of singing and dancing in front of the whole school wearing tights and stage make-up.” Connor shuddered and angrily tore at the muesli bar wrapper.

“Alright, “ Evan picked at his muffin, “let’s –let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” Connor looked up at him.

“Yeah, um - If you want to- to do it with me then, yeah. How, uh, how do we do it?” Evan asked.

Connor's face went blank. “What?”

“How do we, you know, um -” Evan felt suddenly put on the spot, with all of Connor's attention seeming to be focused intensely on him. Did Evan hear him wrong? Why was Connor's face heating up? Oh god, Evan was embarrassing him.

“How do we failtheauditon?” He squeaked out.

“Oh – _ooh_ , shit. Of course.” Connor sat back against the tree stretching his legs. “That’s easy. Just show up, pretend to be all nervous and sincere – that won't be hard for you – and sing really off key or something.”

That sounded terrible. Evan hated disappointing people normally, much less deliberately. But not going along with it would disappoint Connor, who was being really friendly to him and brought him food. If Evan was being honest with himself, he would probably sing off key anyway. So really all he would have to do was show up. Evan rummaged in his backpack and pulled out the sign-up sheet Alana gave him yesterday.

“I guess we should fill these out then,” He said grabbing two pens from his bag and offering one to Connor.

“Oh shit. I think I tore mine up yesterday.” Connor didn’t seem too regretful at that fact. “Here, we can just double up on this one.” He took the offered pen and shuffled over to look at Evan's form.

Ok, that was fine. It was just the second time today Connor Murphy was in Evans' personal bubble, touching him. It’s nothing. Just their shoulders pressed against each other’s and Connor's face close to his, bent to look at the form in Evan's hands.

Evan wrote his name and year level as neatly as possible with a slightly shaky hand before leaning back and letting Connor hastily scribble his details down next to his.

“What day did you want to audition – Thursday or Friday? I’m thinking just get it over and done with,” Connor circled ‘ _Thursday Lunch’_ twice, presumably for Evan as well.

Evan read the next part. 

_What role are you auditioning for? (Please list two preferences)_

\----------

**_Roles_ **

**_Veronica Sawyer -_ ** _To be played by a senior._

_She burns to be both cool and kind, but doesn’t know yet how to be both at the same time. Fierce sense of right and wrong, keen sense of ironic humor. Thinks she's an old soul, but she's still innocent enough to be blindsided by love/hormones (or shocked by cruelty). Voice: high belting required, up to high G, high Ab preferable. Must have dynamic and stylistic range._

**_JD –_ ** _To be played by a senior._

_He is darkly charismatic, compelling, attractive, charming on the outside, yet very damaged on the inside. Keen smarts and strong, inventive comedy. Voice: strong, confident belt to at least an Ab, A preferable; wide emotional range._

**_MARTHA DUNNSTOCK_ ** _–Open to all year ages; senior preferable._

_Nicknamed “Martha Dumptruck,” the opposite of hot, confident, and popular. Huge and beautiful soul, optimistic even in the face of rejection. Voice : Strong belt to E or F, wide vocal expression._

There were a few more roles for what seemed to be extremely bitchy girls and some more background roles. None of them sounded like characters that Evan could pull off. He quickly wrote down ' _Ensemble'_ and ' _Martha Dunnstock_ ,' thinking that, despite the girl's name, it sounded like the part he most suited.

“What the fuck is this play even about – have you heard of it?” Connor asked, reading the extremely vague synopsis under the title _'The Heathers._ ' Evan shook his head. “Well, guess it doesn’t matter who we audition for.” He wrote down ' _JD'_ and ' _Veronica'._ Evan shot him a quizzical gaze.

Connor shrugged, “I’m less likely to get picked if I put only put the lead roles.”

Evan nodded. That seemed to make sense. He was thinking about changing his answer when Connor got up and held out his hand to Evan. “Come on, let’s go track down Alana. We’ll never find her after school.”

Connor must have seen Evan's hesitation at his outstretched hand, because he quickly stuffed it into his pocket and broke his eye contact, looking out at the football field instead. Evan jumped to his feet, hastily collecting his things and following Connor who started to climb the fence.

“Uh –“

“Hansen, come on,” Connor paused, frustration evident, “no one's going to see us. Don’t be such a wimp.” 

Evan shrunk back. “It-it's not that. It's just, it’s my arm.” He rubbed his cast self-consciously.

Connor dropped back down, resting his head against the fence and taking a deep breath. “…I’m a massive idiot.”

“No, I didn’t expect you- you're not, I –"

“No, I’m a fucking inconsiderate moron. Come on, let’s just go around the field and hope we don’t run into anyone.” Connor walked off to the side of the field, pausing briefly to put his muesli bar wrapper in the bin.

Evan stumbled slightly over his own feet as he followed Connor, head slightly dizzy and a weird feeling settling in his stomach that he was going to blame on getting up too fast. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long to find Alana. She actually barreled into them outside the school library – Connor's and Evan's initial best guess as to where Alana might be – apparently on the search for them. Which was a relief to Evan, who had been tensed up, expecting Connor to flip out about people seeing them together. 

“Evan! Connor! – Where have you been? I said to give me your forms first thing today.” Alana's normally immaculate hair was falling out its bun, likely a result of her running all over the school. Evan quickly handed the form to her in an attempt to calm the slightly manic glint in her eye.

“Oh, great! And you’ve both used the same form. That’s…” Alana darted her eyes back and forth between Connor and Evan, “...efficient.”

Evan found a sudden interest with the crack in the sidewalk as Connor held Alana's gaze, daring her to question him.

Bouncing back from the awkward silence, Alana motored on. “Well you both better prepare for your auditions- “ she checked the sheet, “tomorrow at lunch, and I will see you tonight for the dance call.” 

Evan snapped his head back up to the conversation.

“The what?” Connor articulated what Evan was thinking, with a slightly more dangerous edge.

“The dance call. That’s on after school? You did read through the all the information, didn’t you?”

Evan nodded in frantic agreement despite having read none of what Alana was talking about. 

“Well, it’s mandatory for anyone auditioning. Right after school in the gymnasium. Don’t worry too much, Mr. Bennet – the teacher's assistant who's in charge of choreography for the musical – said the difficulty is very low,” Connor looked as though he was about to protest, but Alana cut him off with, “I’ll see you both there - wear something comfortable!” before disappearing into the library. 

Connor looked down at his tight skinny jeans, presumably taking in Alana’s last comment, before looking up at a shell-shocked Evan.

“So this is going to suck.”

 

 

* * *

 

Connor hated when he was right. Showing up to the gym after class was something like walking into a nightmare. He had put his hair up in a bun, changed into crumpled pair of black basketball shorts that he found stuffed in the back of his locker, and taken off his button up shirt, leaving him in just his dark t-shirt, so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Of course being comfortable was just a pipe dream which he realized when he entered the room and felt everybody’s eyes on him. The gym floor was filled with groups of clumped up sophomores, milling juniors, and a smattering of seniors that Connor recognized. Alana was up at the front with a guy Connor recognized as the gym teacher's TA, who also managed the cheer squad. Which explained the surprising number of cheerleaders present. Altogether about forty plus kids had shown up. And evidently, none of them were expecting the school shooter to show up to a dance class. Well, fuck them.

Connor had just spotted Evan in back, nervously playing with a bottle of water, and headed towards him when the teacher's assistant stepped forward to speak. Appearing to be in his young twenties, the TA wore a bright purple t-shirt and tight three-quarter cotton tracksuit pants with his light brown hair styled in a quiff. Connor had to admit he was attractive - in a straight-laced, stock photo sort of way – but he had an unnerving air of energy and optimism that made Connor want to turn and run the other direction.

“Alrighty everyone," the TA said, clapping his hands together with apparent enthusiasm as Connor took his place up the back with Evan who took one look at him and dropped his water bottle, “let’s get this started. I’m Mr. Bennet, but you guys can call me Clark. Now, are we all excited to get started?” He paused, obviously expecting a reply.

There was a murmured affirmation from mainly the juniors as Connor decided he hated everything Clark stood for.

“That’s the spirit. Today we’ll just be learning a quick and easy dance. Since the musical you’re auditioning for has a more of beginners' level of dance ability required – bar some characters – we will be learning simple choreography to _Grease_ ’s "We go together." Raise your hands if you’ve seen Grease.”

Oh dear God, if this man continued with this Dora the Explorer back-and-forth shit, Connor was going to start throwing things. More than half of the group raised their hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Evan lift his hand ever so slightly. Of course Connor had seen Grease, but he wasn’t going to go along with that pastel wearing, stereotypical boy scout's kindergarten lesson.

“Super wicked guys. It happens to be my favorite musical. So we’re just going run through the first couple of steps-“ 

As Clark directed them through the initial sequence of chasse steps, spins, and enthusiastic hand gestures, Connor began to tune out, half-heartedly following along with as little commitment as he could muster. Fortunately, Connor had a history of dance behind him and followed the sequence easily. Unfortunately, this left his brain open to think about how stupid he must look.

 _Just think of the car,_ Connor chanted in his mind over and over until he hopefully astral projected right out of his body and into the nearest space that didn’t have jazz hands. After 10 minutes of mind-numbingly boring dance instruction and repetition, Connor found it relatively easy to disconnect his wounded pride from what he was doing, and just not think about it. This was mainly due to the boy next to him.

The sight of Evan Hansen attempting to follow dance directions was simultaneously the most embarrassing and endearing thing Connor had seen in his 17 years of life. Almost every step Evan took was off beat, clearly because he was second-guessing himself and losing any rhythm he actually had. When everyone put up their left hand, Evan would stick out his right. When everyone jumped forwards, Evan would jump backward. Finally, after sliding to the right instead of the left like the rest of the students, he collided with Connor. He decided to try and relieve some of the shorter boy's pain.

“Hansen, stop.” Connor steadied Evan by placing his hands on his shoulders. The rest of the dance group continued on, too focused on getting their own movements right. Mr. Bennet was at the front, helping clarify which foot to lead on for the leap they were meant to learn next.

Evan halted, looking as though he was about to cry, “I know. I’m terrible. I’m sorry I stepped on your foot, I can’t just – My feet don’t move the way I want them to, and I get dizzy when I spin, and I just don’t get how everyone can catch on so quick. I’m not – I can’t do this.”

“You can. Look you're not even the worst one here,” Connor nodded over to some freshmen who looked as though they had given up learning the moves and were just giggling to themselves as they crashed into their friends. “You’re just overthinking it.”

Evan hung his head.

“Here, just do it slowly with me.” Connor took his place next to Evan. “Just watch me, and follow what I do. It can mix people up to watch it done backward.” Connor gestured to Clark up at the front.

“Ok so first is just the box step. Just lead with your left foot- yeah like that.” Connor ran through the sequence slowly, correcting Evan's posture here and there by saying “No you have to lean into the motion- ” and probably touching him way more than what was necessary. He almost couldn't help it. Connor wasn't normally a touchy-feely person, but Evan just had this nervous energy about him that Connor instinctively wanted to try and calm. He was terrible with words, but with Evan, he seemed to be able to communicate through touch at least somewhat successfully. If nothing else, Evan seemed to be less on edge. 

After Evan did it once slowly, they ran through the dance a few more times, Connor keeping an eye on what Mr. Bennet was adding to the choreography so he could teach it to Evan once he got the hang of things. Funnily enough, despite feeling more self-conscious with all of Evan's attention on him, Connor actually felt like less of a massive loser performing the human happy meals choreography. Helping Evan, even with the most basic steps, reminded Connor that he was capable of being useful. It didn't hurt that in between focusing on Connor's instruction with a furrowed brow, Evan looked at Connor with an expression that seemed curiously close to admiration. As though Connor was doing something impressive as opposed to performing a high school level dance routine.

Eventually Evan seemed to be catching on, being able to complete most of the steps as long as he kept a firm eye on what Connor was doing. 

“How are you so good at this?” Evan asked, exasperation taking over his normally shaky voice after Connor showed him how to do a grapevine.

“None of your busine-” Connor started to shoot back automatically before stopping himself and answering properly. “I, uh, took dance classes when I was younger. Up until high school actually.”

Connor's parents, being rich and convinced of their special little babies' potential, had signed both Zoe and him up for a multitude of after school activities when they were younger. Initially, Larry had tried to get Connor into baseball and failing that, soccer. After suffering through multiple tantrums Larry eventually let Connor choose an activity for himself. Seven-year-old Connor had picked out karate - Mulan had been young Connor's favorite movie and he had liked the idea of being able to beat up anyone that was mean to him or his sister. However, after Cynthia found Zoe teaching Connor her tap routine in the lounge room, she decided to sign him up for dance as well. Despite Larry's initial protests and later willful ignorance, Connor had loved it and dropped karate almost immediately. He did jazz and ballet with Zoe through elementary school, putting on performances for their delighted mother in the backyard. In middle school, Zoe stopped going to dance class, finding a new love in jazz band. 

“Oh, um wow.” Evan paused tripping over his own feet for a moment to look at Connor. “That’s really great, uh – did you like it?” 

“Yeah…I guess I kinda did. It’s just nice, being good at something. For once.” Connor nudged Evan's right foot into the right position.

“Why did you stop? You don't have to answer, obviously, I'm just curious.” 

After Zoe stopped going, Connor continued on, branching out into contemporary dance and even ballroom for a short time. As he got older, he quickly learned that dancing wasn't cool or something to be admired for boys. He thought about quitting multiple times, becoming more self-conscious and stopped practicing unless it was behind locked doors. Every time he thought about going to his classes, a weird knot in his stomach would form as his favorite pastime suddenly became shameful. Connor stopped practicing at home or talking to Zoe about it, putting on an unenthused facade about the whole ordeal. He was pretty sure by grade eight, Larry had forgotten he was even taking the classes. Despite all the negativity surrounding it, dancing was one of the few things that made Connor happy. He had never been a great student, but middle school was when things went from bearable to absolute shit. Rumors about his outbursts from elementary school followed him, and the kids that didn't avoid him thought it was fun to try and egg him on until he snapped. Needless to say, with Connor's short fuse and the constant teasing, there were a lot more 'episodes'. At least in his dance classes, he didn't have to think about any of that. He could escape from being the only loser who ate alone on the playground and actually succeed at something. In the end, that was taken from him too.

Connor stood next to Evan and crossed his right leg behind his left, waiting for the other boy to copy him. “First day back junior year, I recognized a girl from our school in my dance class and bailed. I didn’t want to be known as the sissy that did spins and leaps in a leotard.” 

Evan almost choked. “Di –did you wear, um, did you have a leotard?”

Connor winked at him before he could shut down the impulse. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Connor's voice became slightly strangled as his brain tried to fight the words coming out his traitorous mouth. In the background, he heard Mr. Bennet call for a brief water break.

Evan looked like he was about to have a stroke, so Connor quickly focused his attention back on the dance. “Show me what you got, Hansen.”

“Oh, o-ok.” Evan hesitated slightly before completing a slightly jerky grapevine step, looking back at Connor for confirmation.

Connor smirked, “Pretty slick MC Hammer, but it’s easier if you move your arms while you do it.” Evan held his arms up awkwardly, unsure what do with them. Connor barked out a laugh and stood in front of Evan grabbing his arms lightly, careful of his cast. Beginning the steps with Evan instinctively following along, Connor guided Evan's arms along with the motion. 

“Oh. _My_. God.” An annoyingly familiar voice cut through the gym, “ _Evan?!_ ”

Stood in the doorway of the gymnasium was Jared Kleinman in all his cargo-short-wearing, shocked-expression-slowly-turning-into-a-smug-grin glory.

Evan ripped his arms out of Connor's grasp as Kleinman made his way over, drawing way to much attention with him. Connor did his best to glare at a group of sophomore girls nearby who quickly diverted their attention back to their phones.

“Evan, Evan, Evan,” Jared repeated while approaching the boy in question, shaking his head in shame. “What have you gotten yourself into? Clearly, there has been some mistake.” Jared raised his voice, “Sorry everyone but my friend clearly has walked into the wrong room, we’ll be going now,” Jared grabbed Evan’s uninjured arm, tugging him slightly. “Enjoy your weird dance orgy."

“Shut up -Jared, what are you doing – how did you find me?” Evan rushed out in a harsh whisper.

Jared stopped trying to pull Evan along. “Alana texted me that you were here. I hadn’t seen you all day, and I was pretty sure that Murphy had killed you—Holy shit, Connor! Did not see you there, buddy.”

Connor, who had been trying to avoid being noticed by Jared, turned to face him with a glare. “Fuck off, Kleinman.”

“Well I’m trying to," Jared attempted to grab at Evan who jumped out of his reach. “Come on Evan, I’m doing you a favor-”

“No Jared, stop – seriously.” Evan brushed off Jared's hand, stepping back behind Connor slightly. Connor wasn’t sure if Evan was intentionally using him as body shield against Kleinman, but it seemed to be working.

Throwing his hands up, Jared sighed dramatically, “Ok, I give – what the hell is going on here? What is this weirdness?” Jared asked gesturing in between Connor and Evan. “He steals your creepy letter and suddenly you’re – what? Butt buddies?”

Wait, Evan told other people about Connor taking his letter? Actually, Connor should have assumed that -  he didn't really give him a reason not to. It’s not like he was particularly nice to Evan when he first met him.

“No it’s – it's not like that. We’re not, um - we have to audition–"

“Wait, wait - Let me guess,” Jared pointed at Evan, “You're the shy but conventionally attractive geek who's just gotten enough confidence to perform in the school play, and Pete Wentz here has offered to do it with you because he just can’t get his head in the game,” Jared put his hands over his chest and tilted his head in the dramatic rendition of daydreaming, “because his heart’s in the song.”

Connor was about two seconds from drop kicking this arrogant runt. Evan looked like he was freaking out, although for some reason he was shooting more nervous looks towards Connor than Jared.

“Jared, just -shut up. We’re not together – we’re not even friends!” Evan quickly retreated from his outburst, ducking his head and inspect hemline of his shirt.

Well, that felt like a punch to the gut. Connor schooled his face into a bored expression. He didn’t care anyway - especially about what Evan thought of him. After all, Hansen was a fucking loser, an anti-social nerd who had a tree obsession and couldn’t say a sentence without stuttering. Why the fuck would Connor want to hang around someone who couldn’t even make eye contact? Someone who thought nature was super-cool and littering was the worst possible thing a human could do. Who forgave Connor when he physically assaulted him. Twice. Who couldn’t dance but listened to Connor's advice. Who just listened to Connor in general. So yeah, fuck Evan.

Connor sighed, looking towards the door and wishing he could leave. He had gone over the pros and cons of this plan last night. If he could pull this off he would get his car and consequently his freedom back, not to mention his parents might finally back off. He might finally feel like he wasn't suffocating all the time. He had to do it – or at least try. Even if that meant two more days of feeling like this. Like his insides were being slowly dragged down by a 10-pound weight.

Deep down he should have known Hansen didn’t want to be associated with him. Connor had practically forced his presence on the other boy without giving him a choice. Well, that was fine. He would just leave him alone as soon as this whole musical fiasco was done.

“Jared!” Alana called from the front of the room, “Are you signing up for the play as well?”

“Over my rotting corpse!” Jared called back before turning back to Evan, “Seriously, dude, you cannot do this. You’re just a loser now – if you’re in the school musical, you’ll be dead before the end of the year. It’s social suicide.” 

Evan raised his eyebrows at Jared.

“Yeah so, I watched a bunch of chick flicks last night. In my defense – _Mean Girls_ is a classic.”

“Look, I have to do this –I just have to," Evan struggled to explain. “So just go and – and I’ll see you around.”

Jared paused, realizing he was fighting a losing battle. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he seemed to weigh his options.

“Well shit,” Jared looked around, putting his hand on his hips. “Guess I’ve got nothing better to do than to watch this train wreck go down.” Calling over his shoulder Jared shouted, “Alana, sign me up.”

“Already did!” Alana called back over the sound of Evan's objections. 

Connor did not want Kleinman to be privy to what would definitely rank as two of the most mortifying days of his life. “I thought you said it was social suicide.”

“Hey, “ Jared rounded on Connor, “I’m the class clown, the funny man. I can get away with anything as long as it makes the people laugh. Plus," Jared slicked his eyebrows back with his pointer and pinky, “I got moves.”

Connor scoffed and walked off towards where they were practicing before. The break seemed to be over; students beginning to take their places and go over moves as they waited for Mr. Bennet to return. Evan and Jared followed, the latter still chattering away.

“So, the musical I get – clearly you got peer pressured into it, don’t even say no Evan, I remember the time when you had to borrow money from me when you promised to buy all those girl scout cookies – but what the hell are you doing hanging out with _him_?” Jared jerked his head towards Connor as though he wasn’t three feet away from them, clearly able to hear every word. “Is it some sort of court-mandated friendship I should know about?

“No! No – He’s just…been helping me.”

“Helping you?” Jared laughed. “With what? Advice on dealers?”

Connor took a step towards Kleinman, clenching his fists. However, he caught Evan's wide-eyed pleading look and backed down. Evan gave a small, nervous smile that lifted the weight in Connor's stomach slightly, before answering Jared.

“Helping me with um…dancing,” Evan mumbled in reply. 

Jared let out a disbelieving laugh. “What? Connor Murphy can dance? I’ll alert the presses!"

Connor avoided Evan's puppy eyes this time, grabbing Jared's collar roughly and drawing him in before politely asking, “You’ll do what now?”

“Nothing! Nothing…” Jared squeaked out. Connor released him, stepping back and resuming an air of cold indifference.

“Jeez, Evan if you wanted to know how to dance that badly you should have just come to me.” Jared dusted off his top, regaining his composure. “No need to get Mr. Tall, Dark, and Violent involved.” 

“But you don’t dance Jared?” Evan said confused.

Jared faked gasped. “Et Tu Brute? I am a performer first and foremost. Do you not remember my musical theater phase back in middle school? I made you watch Legally Blonde bootlegs nonstop for two weeks.”

Connor was starting to get really sick of Jared bringing up his past with Evan. He got it – they were friends. They had fond memories together. Connor didn’t belong in this bubble. But there was no way in hell he was going to let Kleinman think he was a better dancer than him.

A loud clap signaled Mr. Bennet's return as he clasped his hands together and grinned enthusiastically at the students who were practicing. Connor was pretty sure he saw a junior swoon.

“Holy mother-ship. Who is _that_?” Jared’s eyes followed the TA across the room. “I’m beginning to see why you signed up for this.” Evan shook his head as Jared tried to catch Mr. Bennet’s eye.

“That’s the teacher's assistant, Clark Bennet. I think he’s in charge of the choreography for the play.”

Jared let out a low whistle, “I wouldn’t mind him being in charge of me.” Evan shot Connor a long-suffering look, clearly used to Jared’s antics. Connor refused to meet Evan’s eye though, still smarting from his earlier "friend" comment.

Still, he kept an eye on Evan as Clark resumed the lesson, a small amount of pride welled up as he saw Evan keeping up on the parts he had gone over with him. Not to mention he kept catching Evan looking over to Connor, in his peripheral, following his movement.

_Take that Kleinman._

To Connor's chagrin, despite missing the first couple of steps, Jared managed to catch on to the dance pretty quickly. Sure, it wasn’t without a litany of snide comments about it being "the gayest thing he done" but that didn’t stop him from going all out. Connor wouldn’t say he was the best dancer – but he begrudgingly admitted he had style.

A little _too_ much style. Jared seemed to be dancing with an aggressive amount of fervor. As the lesson drew to a close, Connor noticed Jared deliberately smirking his way, especially after getting a compliment on his moves from an overly positive junior.

“Evan you’re a disaster. That’s your wrong foot,” Jared pointed to his other leg to demonstrate, while Evan apologized. 

That was it. Connor was helping Evan, not Jared. Jared didn’t know shit about dancing and was messing Evan up by letting him get inside his own head.

“Don’t listen to him, you were doing fine," Connor said, Evan giving him a grateful look.

Jared wasn’t done apparently, “Yeah, if your definition of fine is a doing the entire dance backwards. Then yeah, he was doing great.” 

“See, that’s funny because you would think being such a _great performer,"_  Connor shoved a healthy dose of sarcasm into his words hoping they would slap Jared across the face for him, “you would know that you were the one doing it backwards. Evan was doing it perfectly.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was speaking to famous reality TV star judge Simon Cowell -”

“That’s American Idol, you idiot-”

“OK EVERYONE,” Clark shouted, clearly trying to drown out the shouting coming from the back. “We’re going to be breaking into groups of five and taking turns to perform the number for Ms. Deely when she gets here. So find a group of a five and get ready!”

Evan looked nervously between Connor and Jared, who were still glaring daggers at each other. “Should we…?”

“Yeah, come on Ev- Let’s go find some sane people.”

“I actually, sort of need to be in the same group as..." Evan trailed off, edging towards Connor.

“What’s wrong Kleinman, scared to be in the same group as me?”

“Oh ho ho – No way, psycho. I am not playing this game with you,” Jared waved his hand dismissively, turning away from Connor.

Connor checked his nail polish absent-mindedly. “It’s fine. Not everyone can keep up.”

“I can keep up,” Jared snapped back, turning to face Connor.

“Uh-huh.”

“Oh, it is _on,_ Wednesday Adams.”

So that’s how Connor ended up performing to _Grease's_ “We Go Together” in a group with Evan Hansen, Jared Kleinman, and two juniors – the friendly Asian girl who had complimented Jared and a tall, gangly guy who seemed almost as nervous as Evan. In a bizarre turn of events, Connor didn’t even half-ass the dance, too caught up with outperforming Jared to remember the initial plan to flunk out of the audition. Not to mention he was sort of worried about how well Evan would do. But from what he saw out of the corner of his eye, Evan didn’t do too badly.

Honestly, he didn’t know why he cared. Evan's comment from earlier still stung, and Connor normally wasn’t one for taking that sort of shit lying down. But there was just something there that kept bringing Connor back. Maybe it was just that Evan was the first person to actually tolerate Connor's presence. The last two days he felt like he had managed to get out of his own head, just a little bit. As outsiders who had trouble communicating with the rest of the world, Connor thought he and Evan had a bond of sorts. Outcast loners banding together to enjoy stilted conversations and semi-comfortable silences. Except that obviously, Evan didn’t need that. He already had someone to talk to, even if that person was unbearable. Watching Jared and Evan chat easily as they gathered their bags, Connor decided to slip away before they noticed him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off - I'm not dead. Secondly, send love to my amazing Beta Jordan Hall (also known as connormurphysblunt on tumblr) for being the most thorough editor and amazing idea springboard. 
> 
> So I'm just going to give up trying to shorten chapter because it doesn't seem to be happening. Next chapter will be up in a week most likely.
> 
> I changed the Teachers Assistant name from Matt to Clark mainly because I have a friend called Matt and it started to feel a little weird. Also this way I can make flimsily based Superman jokes. 
> 
> So hopefully this wasn't too ridiculously out of character - I headcanon Connor as competitive especially with Jared.
> 
> Come talk to me! (youvejustbeenducked on tumblr), give me all you feedback and headcanons please and thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any question or comments, please go ahead!  
> My tumblr is youvejustbeenducked if you want to come and headcannon with me.  
> Also this is un-beta'd currently so if you spot any mistakes please tell me :)


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